


Green

by orphan_account



Category: The Incredible Hulk (1978), The Incredible Hulk (TV)
Genre: 1970s, Apartments, Found Families, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Seventies, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-08-24 07:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16635149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (Working title.)Things are working out great for Banner, up until he discovers a crime ring in his workplace. His identity isn't exposed to the general public, but to the one person he's been avoiding: Jack McGee.





	1. Chapter 1

David puts his arms around himself and braces against the wind. It seems his button-up shirt and sweater aren’t doing much for him now; he’ll have to find a winter coat somehow. At least he’s not out on the road. No, he’s found a good place to stay for the moment. He’s not sure how much longer this will last, though. Unfortunately, he has reason to suspect that the shipping company he’s working for is a front for a drug operation. It wouldn’t be the first time he was accidentally tangled up in a crime operation, but it’s just frustrating how often things like this happen to him. He’s already given up the ability to be a normal person, but would it kill the universe to give him a break from all the unintentional crime-solving?

Out on the docks, David works to gather his nerves. He takes a few deep breaths, then figures he’d better not stay out in the cold for much longer. David enters the warehouse silently and is faced with a variety of his coworkers handling sealed crates. He steps forward and helps one of them out, only to receive a scorned look.

“I thought you were off today,” the man, Mac, says. His slightly irritated expression shows more than irritation: genuine suspicion.

“I could say the same to you!” David comments, making sure to keep his tone cheery and polite. “I thought we didn’t have any projects to work on today, but when I heard of this—what I’m assuming to be _very_ sudden—shipment, I decided I’d better come in and see if I can help!”

Mac narrows his eyes. “Are you trying to imply something?”

“Not at all! Do you happen to know what this shipment was? Whatever it is, it seems to be a lot of it.”

Still suspicious, Mac says slowly, “We don’t know yet.”

“We don’t?”

“And we’re not allowed to open them, so don’t try anything, Bennington.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I would never do something like that.”

David goes to pick up the crate again, but he’s stopped.

“What exactly do you know?” Mac asks. His question is slow and deliberate, demanding an honest answer.

Oddly enough, David can only think back to different scenarios he’s been in that are all too similar to this. Confronting criminals, getting into fights...He just hopes this one won’t result in the usual disasters that occur. David enjoys this town too much to leave, and he’s been getting good help from one of the anger management therapists here...

That’s when David hears a loud struggle coming from the other side of the warehouse. Before he can go to see what it is, Mac swings a punch that David can barely dodge. Ducking out of the way, David pushes past Mac and sprints towards the source of the commotion. It’s difficult weaving through all the packed crates, and the younger man is clearly more agile in this scenario. As David hurries toward the scene, a group of coworkers look up, both panicked and furious, as David nearly barrels into them.

Two of them are dragging an unconscious, bleeding man away from the scene. David feels a jolt of fear when he recognizes the man as Jack McGee, the one who’s been chasing him for years.

Just how many close calls have they had? This has to be one of the closest. And David knows he’s not going to let them continue to hold Jack hostage. He just doesn’t know how to do it while keeping his identity concealed.

David’s hesitation earns him a swift kick to the shins and a punch in the back that knocks him down onto the cold cement floor. David rolls to avoid another blow, but this only causes him to run into the legs of another man, who grabs him by the shirt and lifts him up. The other coworkers gather around David, preventing any chance for escape.

There is no way this is going to end well, and David’s increased heart rate indicates one of the worst possible outcomes, something he’s been dreading for the past months he’s been in town. As his vision turns to green, he makes a silent prayer that this time doesn’t completely wreck his life, or the lives of the other people in town.

*

It’s early morning, and Jack is more energetic than usual. That’s all due to a particular story he’s been chasing for the past few days: a potential drug ring in a shipping company that has a warehouse _right here_. He’s already got a leak from one of the old workers at the company—some man named James who’s now in hiding. Now Jack needs some recordings or something to lend credibility to the case. This has got to be one of his biggest stories yet. Second biggest.

Slipping his trusty voice recorder into the inner pocket of his jacket, Jack heads towards the warehouse while carefully keeping himself out of sight of any windows. He regularly ducks behind other buildings or parked cars, which puts a bit of a strain on his knees. Finally, he flattens himself against the brick wall of the warehouse and peeks in through the window. A few people are moving around crates. Jack takes out his portable camera and snaps a few pictures. He’ll have to find a safe place to print them later.

He places the camera into his pocket and moves down a few feet. There’s a window propped open just a crack to let in some air or something. Standing here, he can’t overhear any of the conversation—likely the cause of their choice in a conversation spot. But it makes things easy for him. He wedges the window open further, careful not to make a sound or break it. It takes several minutes from having to constantly stop and see if he’s being watched, but he finally gets it open wide enough for him to wiggle through.

Landing softly on the ground, Jack looks at his surroundings. He absentmindedly pats his pocket that contains the recorder, then the wrap around his arm that contains a concealed knife. Just in case. Crouching down, Jack heads closer to the group while making sure to hide behind every few crates he sees.

Once he’s close enough, Jack pulls out the camera. He makes sure not to disturb the recorder as he lifts the camera to his eye. They’re just standing around...talking. Where the shipment’s headed, how much money they’re going to get for it. Nothing incriminating is being said at the moment, and there’s nothing worth snapping a picture of!

Jack dares himself to get a bit closer. As he ducks behind a crate, he wonders if he should just take one of them. There’s no way to get it out without them knowing, especially since the shipment is tonight, but maybe, just maybe...

Their voices get louder as the people come closer to him. Jack gets panicked. It’s good for the story, but it’s not worth killing himself over. Keeping his head low, he rushes towards a farther crate.

Someone spots him and shouts, “Hey!”

At that, Jack stands up straight and makes a beeline for the door. But it’s a huge warehouse, and there are a lot of workers there. Three of them grab him and haul him backwards. He loses his footing, and his camera, and for a few seconds, his breath.

“Alright, who are you? What are you doing here?”

One of the workers picks up the camera. “It’s got to be that reporter.”

Jack clenches his fists as one of them reaches into the pocket of his jacket. After pulling out the recorder, the worker holds it out for everyone to see.

“Well, look at this! You wanted to find some evidence for your story, huh?”

The recorder is thrown to the ground and stomped underfoot. Jack views the scene with the same horror as watching a sports car being crushed with a battering ram.

“I should go,” Jack stammers out, working to free himself from the grasp.

This doesn’t work.

Fortunately, past experiences in his line of work have led to a variety of fights in similar situations. Jack lands a few kicks and punches while dodging a good amount of the ones dealt at him. He moves with a swiftness he never expected from himself, but he’s out of breath quickly A well-placed punch knocks out one of the workers, only for another one to send Jack spiralling to the ground.

He’s barely conscious as he’s being tied up to what feels like a plastic chair. Probably is. Jack’s head rolls. Someone wishes him a good night’s sleep. A door slams, and a lock clicks.

There’s still a commotion going on outside of the room, and this startles Jack enough to make him snap his eyes open. He stares at the locked door as if it will help him place the sounds of the shouting.

Remembering the knife hidden in his sleeve, Jack focuses his attention instead of getting himself out. It takes a few tries to slip the knife out, which leads to three separate panic-filled moments where the knife almost falls out of his hands. Finally, Jack gets a good enough grip on it to start cutting off the ropes. His hands and his wrists ache from the work, but that’s not his main concern right now. The rope is thinning, ever so slowly. He doesn’t know what he’ll do once he’s out of the chair, but hey, that’s a problem for future Jack. Current Jack just needs to get out of the chair.

A loud roar scares Jack enough for him to drop the knife, sending it clattering onto the concrete. Jack catches his breath, thinking of piercing white eyes. There’s another roar, then a scream, then a slam.

No, no! The Hulk is _here_! And with Jack being held hostage!

John Doe must be working for the warehouse. Why else would he be here on a day when it’s closed?

That means they have a dangerous monster on their side, in addition to all their powerful wealth.

Jack frantically pulls his arms apart, tearing the last few threads of the rope. He leans back to grab the knife. The chair rocks, threatening to fall back, but finally, Jack snatches up his knife. With more mobility in his hands, he’s able to cut off the ropes around his ankles in just a few seconds.

The sounds of the fight are getting louder. Gunshots are introduced into the mix, too. Something crashes, and Jack can vividly imagine the Hulk throwing a man into a pile of crates, sending everything toppling down. The workers here better have good health insurance.

Armed with a knife and his freedom, Jack seeks another means of escape. He notices a window in the edge of the room. Slipping the knife into his belt, Jack picks up the chair and swings it around a bit. It’s light, but moves easily. He could probably break a pane of glass with it.

After another practice swing, Jack figures he’s ready. He picks up, ready to aim—

And the door comes crashing down behind him.

In a panic, Jack ends up crashing the chair against the wall as he spins around to view the violent entry. It is, of course, the Hulk, standing in the midst of the rubble from the crushed doorway. He lets out a roar and glares, but he’s taking steps back.

Jack takes out the knife. “You better stay away from me.”

It’s ridiculous; the creature could probably snap it in half if he wanted to. Instead, he growls and bares his teeth at Jack.

“I’m warning you. You let me out of here _right now_ , John. I know you come from a person, and it has to be someone who works here. I’ll just see who wasn’t here today, huh? Someone who leaves the job immediately because now he’s worried about an investigative reporter trying to find him. How would you like that, John?”

The Hulk swats Jack’s hand, sending it flying. Jack shields his face as the Hulk steps towards him, but he finds himself being lifted into the air.

And Jack screams. An actual honest-to-God scream like the time one of his coworkers bullied him into going on a roller coaster that was much worse than he expected, only this time there aren’t any restraints.

Jack braces himself for being thrown across the room but instead finds himself being carried. The Hulk turns and sprints out of the room. Jack can’t help himself from clinging to the Hulk’s neck.

The rest of the warehouse is an absolute mess. The crates are smashed, releasing several packages of the mysterious white powders Jack expected to see inside. Everyone in their is either unconscious or hurt and unwilling to fight. It doesn’t seem like there are any bodies, but Jack can’t make himself certain.

That’s when he realizes that, despite his failed mission, this Hulk has found him enough evidence to blow the whole thing out of the water.

“John, you did it! You can put me down now.”

He doesn’t. He keeps sprinting out of the warehouse, away from the docks. Jack shields himself from the wind and wonders if the Hulk ever feels cold. Delicately, he picks off a small shred of a grey sweater and notices that it’s stained with crimson blood.

“You’ve been shot at! My God, John!”

They land in a more heavily wooded area. The Hulk kneels down, placing Jack onto the dirt, then sits down beside him. He flinches and grabs his bleeding arm.

Propping himself up on his knees, Jack leans closer to examine the wounds.

“That’s a lot of bullets,” Jack says. He touches one, then flinches at the Hulk’s aggressive growl. “I’m not going to hurt you, but we should get you to a doctor. Though...I don’t think they would like seeing you there. Why don’t you go back to your human self? You know, John Doe? Can you understand me?”

The Hulk glances over at him. His eyes are clouded over with either confusion or exhaustion, and this only causes Jack to worry more. Obviously, the creature can’t hurt him now, but by God, Jack doesn’t want him to _die_. That’s the last thing he wants.

“Why don’t I go call a doctor?” When did he last see a pay phone? Well, there has to be one somewhere.

Jack freezes when he notes a sudden difference in the Hulk’s expression. He looks exhausted, blinking rapidly.

“John? Are you okay?”

The Hulk’s face goes pale, the green washing out into a normal, peachy color. He’s shrinking, too, returning to the normal proportions of a human being.

The reunion of Jack McGee and John Doe is not a happy one. Spurred on by panic, Jack has to leave him to sprint over to the nearest payphone. He nearly twists his ankles a few times on the way, and the phone call is so frantic he wonders if the doctors will ever understand what he’s saying.

But police are already crowding the warehouse after all the gunshots heard, so there’s enough people to help him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David wakes up in a hospital with some quickly healing injuries and no memory of how he's gotten there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alice morrow (from the episode "alice in disco-land") is introduced in this chapter. she is 18. this is not for the sake of any weird ships; i only wanted to show the years that have passed from that episode.

David doesn’t open his eyes. He recognizes that he is lying down on a flat surface, but it’s soft, not the sturdy concrete floors of the warehouse. And it’s not a sidewalk or a forest floor either. After a few moments, he realizes he’s lying down on a bed; it takes a good deal of self-control to keep his eyes tightly shut. He lets out a slow breath through his nose. A bed means that someone found him when he changed back and went out to help him. Maybe it was Alice. Maybe he’s in his apartment.

No, Alice was at work when David went to the warehouse. It was early in the morning, around the usual time he’d go there, if he had been working then.

He doubts he’ll be able to return.

The sheets feel scratchy—a hospital bed? That would explain the stiffness in his shoulders and the dull pain in his back. He must have been injured, but he can’t make himself remember anything that happened after he transformed.

But he does remember Jack McGee’s unconscious body being dragged away.

David’s throat is tight, and his head is starting to hurt. Whatever happened, he doesn’t care right now. He just needs to watch his health. The thought of food makes him sick, but he can at least get some water and prevent himself from dehydrating. David opens his eyes and looks up at the plain white ceiling. Vague white noise comes up in the background.

Slowly, David pushes himself up into a sitting position.

When he does that, a man is at his side in an instant. David turns and is met with Jack himself.

David shuffles back in a panic. His nostrils flare as his breath comes out in short puffs. Slowly, Jack puts up his hands.

“Alright, we don’t need you freaking out,” Jack says. “Especially not in a  _ hospital _ .”

David turns his gaze around at the rest of the hospital room. It’s plain, with no decoration to speak of. The only sign of life is a set of two plastic chairs, one of which has Jack’s briefcase resting on it.

After forcing himself into a slightly more relaxed position, David turns to face Jack and says, “What happened? Did you see the creature?”

“The creature?” Jack drops his hands out of his pockets. “Of course I saw him. Don’t you remember? He bust into the warehouse and dragged me out of there. After fighting everyone who was inside it.”

“No, I...I don’t remember. I never do.”

Jack arches both of his eyebrows. “So you just black out and wake up with a building completely destroyed?”

“Sometimes,” David says. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt anyone?”

Jack considers the question more carefully this time. Lifting his eyes up, he furrows his brows at nothing in particular and recalls what he can about the scene. “No, you just knocked everyone out and scared the hell out of them.  _ And _ ...and you happened to bring an entire drug operation to light. So I suppose I should thank you. For saving me, and for helping my story.”

“Your story?” David asks. He shuffles closer to the other edge of the bed and reaches over for the pitcher of water on the nightstand.

Jack swats his hands away and pours a glass of water himself. He hands it over before explaining.

“I suspected something was up with that shipping company. I came here to investigate. I had some information for a decent story, but not enough proof to make it believable. Of course, now I have statements from the police and pictures from the actual investigation of it.”

David doesn’t have the heart to ask whether the Hulk will appear in this story; he simply drinks his water silently. The glass is empty in a few seconds, and Jack refills it.

“Now I have to ask you a question,” Jack says. “What were you doing in that warehouse? I mean, you- _ you _ , not the creature.”

“I work there,” David says, “or I used to.” He slides his gaze towards Jack. “I’m guessing that’s not the whole question, though.”

Jack crosses his arms. “Absolutely not. You were supposed to be  _ dead _ . But now you’re alive, and not only that, but you’re also John Doe  _ and _ the Hulk.” He stops and takes a step back. “Oh...You went into the lab. The Hulk came out with Dr Marks...”

“It happens when I’m angry,” David rushes to explain. “I wanted to save her, but I couldn’t get past the fires, and I just couldn’t stand the idea that she would die when I was so _close_ to getting her out of there...” David puts the glass back down on the nightstand with a little more force than intended. “And now everyone thinks that I killed her.”

“A dangerous, powerful creature walked out with this woman, and her body was found in the woods just under an hour later. What were we supposed to think?”

_ We _ . For some reason, David doesn’t like it being said like that.

“I understand,” David says. “But you also have to understand that I didn’t come forward about my life for a reason.”

“What reason is that?”

David looks down at his fingernail as he picks at it. “I want to find a cure. There has to be something, somewhere. Given the danger this presents, I think that’s the very least I can do.”

“Well, have you found something yet?”

“I’ve tried everything,” David says. “Radiation, medicines, hypnotism. Right now, I’m in an intensive anger management program. Nothing’s worked completely.”

“Because you’re always leaving before you get the chance to see if it works!”

David’s eyes level with Jack’s. “I have a good reason to run.”

Jack doesn’t respond; there’s nothing to be said. Instead, he strides over to the corner of his room and picks up his briefcase. Turning on his heel, he faces David once more.

“You don’t have a car, do you?”

“No.”

“Good. I’ll drive you to your home. Your clothes are in the cabinet. I’ll be outside.”

Jack leaves with no other comment. David stares after the closed door for several seconds before pushing himself out of his bed. Walking isn’t difficult, and he’s already starting to recover from whatever injuries he sustained. David gently presses down on his bandaged right shoulder. Pain slithers down his arm, but it’s not unbearable. He tugs his sleeve up and pulls at the bandages. They give way easily and reveal barely injured skin beneath. It’s already completely scabbed over. And in that short time?

With his personal investigations complete, David walks over to the cabinet and opens it up. A small stack of folded clothes rest on the shelf. David pulls them out and finds a shredded shirt and a stretched out pair of jeans. There aren’t any shoes.

But it’s better than nothing.

David ditches the remains of a shirt and tugs on the jeans. It doesn’t take a mirror to know that he looks a mess, but frankly, he couldn’t care less. He just needs to get home and get packed to leave.

Jack waits outside. He gives David an apologetic look and offers up his jacket before leading David out of the hospital. David signs out and follows Jack into the parking lot. His car is parked closely to the door, and David resigns himself to his fate as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“Can I ask what happened after I changed back?” David asks as Jack starts to drive the car out of the parking lot. “I can’t seem to remember that, either.”

“Figures. You fell unconscious! You were shot many times.”

“By who?”

“I dunno. The people at the warehouse. You were causing a whole riot back there.” Jack glances over at the passenger seat. “But you’re safe from them now.”

“You said the police were investigating the scene?”

Jack nods. “Well, yeah, they usually do try to investigate gunshots and things like that.”

“So they’ve figured out about the drug operation,” David points out.

“Sure have. I saw the place. It was ridiculous. Crates and crates of—I don’t even know what. Everything. The whole mix.”

“And I didn’t notice until months after I started working there,” David says.

He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself, but he  _ does _ allow himself a few moments of disappointment. He should be able to quickly pick up things like this by now—given how often he has to deal with it.

David directs Jack to his apartment building, and they’re there in just a few minutes. Jack follows a few feet behind David as he heads up to his apartment. Luckily, his keys were in his pants pockets, so he’s able to get in easily.

He surprises himself by inviting Jack inside.

The apartment is simple. Humble, even. There are no decorations, only the simple things they need to live. David crosses the living room and enters his bedroom. He selects the first shirt he sees and changes. When he walks out, Jack is still standing by the door.

“Here’s your jacket,” David says, handing it over.

“Thanks.” Jack holds it for a few seconds before finally deciding to put it back on. “I suppose I’ll see you around?”

“I don’t know about that. I think I’d better start going.”

Jack pauses. “ _ Why _ ?”

His question is more vehement than David thought it would be. He pushes himself to explain. “Well, I just had a, uh, ‘metamorphosis’. Usually, that’s when I have to leave...”

“Because a nosy investigative reporter will be poking around looking for the Hulk?” Jack asks. “And he might find you and realize you’re still alive?”

David hesitates.

“Banner, I don’t want you to leave,” Jack admits. “I only  _ just _ found out you were here. I don’t want to have to search for you to talk to you again! Okay?”

There really isn’t much to say. David doesn’t want to leave, but he had already forced himself to get used to the idea of travelling again. Still, Jack has a good point.

“Okay,” David says, “I guess I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Jack reaches out to shake his hand. “Then I’ll see you again.”

David takes his hand. “I guess you will.”

Jack turns to leave. Just as he’s about to get the door, it’s opened up from the other side. An eighteen-year-old girl stands confusedly in the doorway.

David closes his eyes.

“Hello?” she says, furrowing her brows at the investigative reporter. “Um, David?”

“This is Jack McGee,” David says, “from the  _ National Register _ . Mr McGee, this is Alice Morrow.”

Alice recognizes the names, but she can’t say anything with the present company. Instead, she walks towards David and takes his arm protectively. “Well, Mr McGee, it’s nice having a well-known writer here, but if you don’t mind, my godfather and I have to talk about something personal.”

“Of course,” Jack says, flicking his gaze between the pair. “I’ll be off. See you later?”

“Sure,” David says.

Jack leaves, closing the door behind himself.

“What was that?” Alice asks, turning to face David. “Isn’t that the reporter you’ve been avoiding?”

“That’s the one,” David says. “I...had another transformation. I was shot, and Mr McGee took me to the hospital.”

“You were shot?”

“As the Hulk,” David responds, “so I’m already almost healed.”

“But you...”

“I know. McGee saw me; he knows all about me now.”

“Not  _ all _ about you,” Alice argues.

“But enough to completely endanger my life.”

“Will you leave?”

There’s a pleading look in her eyes; she doesn’t want him to go. They’ve had a comfortable life here for months now.

“Don’t worry,” David says, “I won’t leave you. There’s too much here for me to just walk out right now. Anyway, if I’m here, maybe I could convince Mr McGee not to expose me.”

“Hopefully,” Alice says. “Or maybe I have to talk to him.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You’re you,” Alice says with a sigh.

David turns to keep his gaze on her as she heads towards the kitchen. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nice to everyone.” Alice drops her gym bag on the table. “Which is a good thing, usually, but you always let bad things happen to you. And then you get  _ angry _ and turn into the Hulk and scare the daylights out of everyone around you.”

Guilt is already gnawing at David’s stomach. “I know.”

Alice pours herself a glass of tap water. She takes a sip and turns to face David. “What are you going to do after this?”

“I’m definitely out on a job, and we have rent due in a few weeks, so I guess I’ll have to find a new one.”

“I can cover it,” Alice says.

“ _ No _ ,” David responds in a suddenly stern tone. “Even though David Banner is legally dead, I still consider myself your guardian. You handle your own things, and I’ll deal with this.”

Alice sighs and places her glass back on the kitchen table. “You know, there’s a used bookstore by my dance studio. They’re looking for new workers to organize books and things like that. You could come with me when I go to work tomorrow.”

With a smile, David says, “I think I'll do that. Thank you.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack sends off the story he was writing.

Oh, what the hell was Jack _thinking_? Sure, he kept the subject of his big story in town, but at what cost? The poor man probably thinks there’s something wrong with him!

Jack taps his cigarette against the rim of the ashtray. He doesn’t need to worry about that now; he has a story to write. He’ll find David and talk to him later, but for now, he just has the drug operation to write about.

The story so far has a surprising lack of the Hulk in it. In fact, Jack avoided talking about his unfortunate warehouse visit entirely. It’s not like Jack struggles to talk about; the event doesn’t even bother him anymore. But for some reason, he can’t force himself to write out the words.

Jack’s gone through several drafts of the story. His trash bin is overflowing with crumpled papers stained with ink. But this time, this time Jack’s got it.

Yet it still falls short.

He scans over the papers one more time. The whole thing takes three pages to finish, and it’s probably one of his best stories yet, despite the parts of it he unintentionally left out. No, those parts can come later, in the most important story of his career. The Hulk: an inside story.

Jack smiles to himself. That’ll be the day; everything will fall into place with that one story.

His smile disappears as he remembers that conversation he had with David earlier—as John Doe, at least. What _would_ happen to the Hulk when his identity was exposed? And it was different now that it hid as a man. Maybe people would be more humane to it with that knowledge...?

Jack distracts himself by taking the last paper out of the typewriter and stacking the sheets together. What does it matter what happens to the Hulk? Jack is a reporter. His job is to find the story and tell it, and that’s it. He has the story, or part of it. He has to find the rest, and...

The story goes in a manila envelope, which he closes securely and prepares to mail.

His job is to find the story and tell it.

And that’s it.

Jack straightens out his sleeves, slips on a jacket, grabs his keys, turns off the lights, heads out of the apartment. He locks the door behind himself and glances out into the halls of the apartment. He’s never gotten to know anyone here, but he figured he’d be leaving soon—after this story, and then a review he’s supposed to be doing on a new restaurant that will be opening up in a week. He figured he’d have about a month, maybe a little more. Now that’s not enough for him. He was planning on taking some vacation time after the next issue anyhow; he supposes he’ll just have to spend that here.

Not that he minds. The subject of his story keeps good company.

Dropping his keys into his pocket, Jack heads towards the lobby of the apartment. It’s almost empty, with a tired desk worker glancing lazily in his direction as he leaves. Jack decides to keep his keys with him; he’s never been able to trust leaving them in his lobby. Not that he’s paranoid, but he’s had to do a lot of stories involving crimes that did occur in apartment buildings much like this one.

The city is nice, though. If Jack hadn’t come upon a major drug operation in the first weeks of his trip here, he would have considered it a decent place to live. He has a habit of reviewing the places he’s stayed like that. He doesn’t really have one specific home, nor one place he plans to live forever. Home is where there’s love, right?

It’s still early, with a light fog descending upon the town and birds chirping as loudly as they possibly can. As Jack strolls the cobblestone streets, it hits him that the only sleep he got last night was a quick nap, during which he had a stress dream about the story he had to finish. He’s fine now, but in about an hour he figures he’ll start feeling the effects of a sleepless night. He’s not nearly as young as he used to be. How’d he even accomplish all-nighters in college?

It is when Jack is most deep in thought that he spots _him_ . Jack has to stop himself from yelling “Banner” out into the streets and instead calls: “ _John_!”

David turns confusedly. When he sees Jack, a mixture of fear and interest appears on his face. Jack catches up with him in just a few seconds.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jack says.

“Isn’t it,” David comments blankly.

“I was just heading over to the post office to mail my story,” Jack continues. He taps the envelope. “I mean, the one on the warehouse.”

“Ah...”

“Mind walking with me?” I need someone to talk to or else I might just pass out in the streets.

But he doesn’t say that out loud.

“Not at all,” David says.

They begin walking side by side.

“I, uh, applied for a new job at the bookstore,” David says, nodding in the direction of the building he just walked out of. “So...I suppose I’ll be staying here for a bit.”

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want you to have to leave so soon.”

His sympathy is so well-performed that Jack almost thinks it’s real. But it can’t be; he has to remain objective in this story.

They’re at the post office in a few seconds. David waits outside patiently while Jack mails the story, and he’s surprised that the man is still there when he returns. David is clearly nervous, but not so much that he’ll run—or grow angry and transform, the subject of Jack’s nightmares.

“I have a weird question to ask,” Jack states as he and David start walking away.

“Alright.”

“That girl that was at your house, Alice? Well, I was looking through old stories that I had written and found that she...had an encounter with the Hulk.”

“Completely unrelated,” David murmurs. His short explanation is, “David Banner was Alice Morrow’s godfather. Unfortunately, her father died, and her mother left, and her godfather...”

“I see.” Voice low, Jack leans in and asks, “So I’m assuming she knows?”

David nods.

Jack didn’t realize he was heading towards his apartment; he only notices it when he arrives at the doors. He stares at the lobby, then turns to look at David.

“Want to come in?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” David murmurs.

He follows Jack into the apartment. The place is clean, but not exactly for guests. Still, David doesn’t mind. He removes his shoes at the door, quietly asks if he can use the couch, and sits down.

David’s quiet, but too quiet. Then again, Jack doesn’t know much about the guy, beyond his research...But he seemed more outspoken when they had first talked at the Culver Institute. Maybe the Hulk ruined that.

Maybe it’s Jack.

Well, why does he care?

“Could I get you anything? I have some coffee.”

“Coffee would be nice.”

David gets up and follows Jack into the kitchen, but he doesn’t argue with Jack when he insists on preparing all the coffee himself. In a few minutes, they’re back in the living room with two steaming mugs. David stirs cream into his coffee silently.

“You’re okay, aren’t you?” Jack didn’t expect himself to ask that, but he pushes on. “I mean, you were shot a good amount of times at the warehouse, and then with...everything else that happened.”

David sips his coffee, then closes his eyes for a few seconds. Once he’s able to focus, he responds, “I think I’ll be fine. I just have to have some time to get used to things.”

“There aren’t a lot of people that know about you, are there?”

“Usually, something bad happens to people when they find out,” David answers. “Like...my second wife, Carol. Well, I already knew she was ill. But...she did pass away while I was the Hulk, so I don’t remember what happened, only waking up with her in my arms...” David shudders but recovers quickly. “Then again, there are many people who figured it out, or were shown, and were able to protect me.”

Jack squints as he thinks about the various interviews he had taken about the Hulk. “And I’m guessing your goddaughter was one such person?”

“No, she didn’t know at the time you tried to interview you. In fact, she didn’t even recognize me as David Banner at the time. She was...going through a lot.”

“What happened? I thought the Hulk attacked her and tried to throw her off the building.”

David shakes his head no. “I would never.”

“Figures. You care about her a lot, don’t you? So it does, too.”

David doesn’t bother to correct him this time. “Part of what happened was her story to tell. But I can tell you that she was going through a particularly rough patch and had an emotional breakdown. She was on the roof of a building, and everyone thought she was going to jump. The building was unstable anyway, so it was a struggle going through, and then...suddenly I was out on the ground, and Alice wasn’t around, but at least she was safe. And part of the reason why she couldn’t talk to you about it was because she didn’t remember much of the event, or what was real and what was part of her imagination.”

“How come she didn’t recognize you?”

You’re taking down everything I’m saying, aren’t you? “I hadn’t seen her in a long time, and like I said, she was going through a rough patch in her life. She had other things to worry about.”

“But you saw her again, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” David says. “I had to check on her, to be sure she was alright. I knew it was risky coming here again, but I thought...I dunno, the ‘Hulk’ isn’t usually in the same place multiple times. I thought you wouldn’t be here unless I...lost control. And I worked hard not to. There was only one incident, where I transformed after a nightmare, but I stayed in the apartment, and Alice calmed me down.”

“Didn’t know you could do that.”

“It’s almost impossible to control the Hulk...once he’s out,” David responds. “The only control comes from my side. Making myself stay calm, not putting myself into situations that could cause me to transform, looking for cures...It hasn’t worked as well as I would hope, but I still maintain that it is my duty, for the sake of everyone else, that I keep working to...find something that will help out.”

Jack considers the statement. “Remember what I told you back in the woods? It’s either you or them, and you have to choose which one you put first.”

“Well, I don’t care much about me.” David freezes; he hadn’t meant to say that. It’s something that’s been weighing on his mind for years now, but something he never intended to admit out loud. “It’s just that I feel like I’m a danger to people around me, which has been proven multiple times throughout my life so far.”

“How very altruistic. But frankly, it just sounds like you need a lot of therapy.”

“That’s why I’m in an anger management group.”

“Oh,” Jack says. He remembers something like that being mentioned before. Attempting to lighten the mood, he asks, “So do they just think you’re a normal angry guy?”

“They do. I can tell them that I get so angry I wreck my home, and they’ll tell me they relate. They don’t actually, but it helps me feel...” David can’t articulate the word. He sips his coffee, now lukewarm. “I guess I just don’t feel so alone.”

“You can’t talk to anyone about it, can you.”

“No one now. Sometimes Alice, but she doesn’t...I don’t think she understands well. The whole thing scares her a little bit. She’s never told me outright, but I can tell. Not that I blame her.”

“Is there anyone who’s _not_ scared of the Hulk?” Jack asks, more blunt than he planned on being.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Didn’t you say, sometime, that you were scared of the Hulk?” David asks gently.

“Scared? No!” Jack looks over at David’s earnest expression. “A little.”

“That’s okay. If I’m being frank, you scare me most of the time, too.”

“Huh, and you’re one of the few people I’d consider a friend,” Jack says. “I mean, after what happened with ‘John Doe’.”

“Right.”

Jack leans forward and puts his mug on the coffee table. “So you’re not David Banner anymore, and you’re not John Doe. Who are you?”

“David Bennington, for now,” David says. “But you can just call me David.”

“And you don’t have to keep calling me Mr McGee if you don’t want to. We’re friends, sort of, right?”

“Right,” David says. He glances at the half-empty coffee mug. “I should go, Jack.”

“Alright. I suppose I’ll see you later?”

How many times has he asked that? It feels like it’s happened many times before, despite that likely being an unintentional exaggeration. “I suppose you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i wrote this entire chapter in under three hours and then was unable to write literally anything else (including a 3-sentence caption for newspaper) rip me


End file.
